


A Steak to Two Wolves

by Mandibles



Series: In which I try to cope with the Colton Thing [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Bathtubs, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sharing, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, <i>In Which Jackson and Derek Learn To Share--Kinda</i>. Stiles always thought his first time would be romantic, you know? Instead he's crammed in a bathtub with Jackson in his lap and Derek hovering over them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Steak to Two Wolves

Stiles always imagined his first time would be romantic, you know? Something simple and sweet and intimate with the warm light of candles and deep red rose petals scattered across silk sheets. If anything, there would be a bed at the very least. Instead, he finds himself crammed in Jackson’s bathtub—correction: Jackson’s parents’ bathtub—with Jackson settled in his lap in the soapy water and Derek hovering beside them, hands curled stiffly in his pockets.

Right. So. Nothing at all as he imagined, but, you know, it’s not _bad_. The high bubble count is romantic, Stiles supposes; white foam clings to Jackson’s shoulders, his ribs and that’s just hot as fuck. In fact, this could be everything he’s ever wanted, especially when Jackson’s grabbing for his dick like that, sliding the head between freckled cheeks and—oh. Oh my god.

Jackson exhales deeply through his nostrils as he sinks down on Stiles’ cock, face contorted in tight discomfort and his body flushed all the way down to his chest. And, fuck, is he _tight_ , tighter than Stiles’ hand or Jackson’s mouth or that place between pillow and mattress on the nights Stiles is extra desperate; he’s tighter than anything Stiles has ever had, and it’s just so raw, so real, so _sur_ real, that his initial whimper turns into a full-bodied groan as Jackson takes more of him inside.

Shit, he can feel his pulse. He can _feel_ Jackson’s pulse, beating hard where their bodies meet. There’s nothing—absolutely _nothing_ —hotter than that. Stiles bites his lip, tries so hard not to come right on the spot.

“Jesus Christ,” Jackson hisses once he’s finally seated, his cock dark with blood and fiery hot where it slides between their stomachs. He hooks an arm around Stiles’ neck, drops his forehead against his. “Holy _shit_ , Stilinski.”

A zipper yawns in sympathy and heat prickles under Stiles’ skin as Derek, still clothed and painfully dark against the stark white bathroom, draws his cock from his jeans. He’s thicker than Jackson, his balls heavier, but his erection is flushed just as dark, just as desperate, and it’s such a shame that Derek’s sitting this one out. But, that was the deal, wasn’t it? The closest to quid pro quo they could possibly get.

Jackson gets his shot with Stiles; Derek gets to watch as he pleases; and Stiles gets them both, in a way. Discrepancies aside, everyone more or less wins.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta start moving, Stilinski. Do you hear me? I’m gonna—gonna—”

Stiles especially, now that he thinks about it. Stiles totally, totally got the clean end of the stick on this one.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Stiles says. He wraps his arms around Jackson. “Yeah, just—yeah.”

Derek spits in his palm, smooths it over his dick in long strokes. “Try not to come,” he murmurs with a smug tug of lips and, oh shit, yeah, that’s a pretty pressing issue. Stiles can already feel it in him, building behind his balls; he bites his lip, determined to suppress it.

Jackson clenches experimentally and the jolt of pleasure makes Stiles gasp into Jackson’s lips, easing them into their very, very first kiss. Both groaning low, their tongues weave together so easily, so naturally, you’d think they’ve done it a million times before. But, no, this is the first he’s ever gotten to taste of Jackson, of anyone. Heels trying to gain purchase in the bathtub, Stiles rocks his hips up as best he can, the drag drawing a shudder and a grunt from Jackson.

Their pace is slow, unhurried, both getting a feel for their position, for each other. Even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing with any of this, Stiles does what feels right and gives that his all. Jackson’s quiet noises that Stiles swallows down in their kiss give Stiles the heart-pounding confidence to thrust up sharply, spurring more of those sounds. Water splashes, foam spilling over the edge of the tub, and anxious words tumble from Stiles’ lips unbidden: “Oh man, you’re so _tight_ , Jackson. I just want to stay here forever, want to have my cock in you forever, because it’s just so fucking good—”

Jackson positively _sobs_ at that, but Stiles can’t taste it; a hand grabs him by the back of the neck and pushes him into another mouth, the kiss scratchy from Derek’s stubble. This kiss is different, Derek forceful and simply taking what he wants while Jackson had at least coaxed it out of Stiles before bleeding him dry; but, that doesn’t make it any less _awesome_. It’s when Jackson huffs indignantly against his neck and Derek smiles against his lips in wicked victory that Stiles draws a line, though.

Look, Stiles is more than glad to have the two guys he’s been pining for here fighting over him. There’s a difference though in being treated like Jessie’s girl between Jessie and Rick Springfield and being treated like a Buzz Lightyear action figure between two five-year-olds at a daycare center. Or a steak to two wolves.

“ _Shit_!” Derek hisses, shooting back up when Stiles chomps down on his lip hard; Jackson gasps when Stiles digs his nails into the tender skin of his ass, if not hard enough to break skin, then enough to get his attention.

“You’re going to have to get over it, you know,” Stiles declares, countering Derek’s scowl with one of his own. Jackson barely earns a glance because he’s probably just mush now. “If it’s not both of you, it’s neither of you.”

Silence. Derek and Jackson cast sour looks at each other and they stay like that long enough for Stiles to realize that, shit, he just might lose them both. That is until Jackson glowers up at the abandoned dick that hangs heavily between Derek’s legs.

His lips twist. “I’ll suck you,” he offers blandly. A peace offering.

Derek doesn’t answer for a moment, scratches at his stubble, then offers, “I’ll return the favor,” with a nod. He drops a knee down on the wet edge of the tub and Jackson’s already got a hand on Derek’s cock before Stiles can register the exchange; he ends up watching dumbly, jaw slack, as Jackson swallows down Derek’s length with these quick, intense glances up at Derek who growls deep in his chest and reaches to grab a hold of Jackson’s hair. It sends Stiles reeling, spiraling into this scorching hot haze of lust, because they’re his now, both of them are _his_ , and—and—

And absolutely no one can blame Stiles for clawing at Derek’s thigh and biting Jackson’s shoulder and coming so hard white bursts across his vision.


End file.
